Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1887-03-14
HE LOVES HER STILL.

should. come here, my child.
1t was low dark room in one of the
tenements with which the street was
crowded, and upon narrow bed Law
an old man. His eyes were listlesslv
closed, and his long white hair was
flung carelessly back from his high
pale forehead.
As Ailia approached with her dear
violin grasped tightly in both her small
hands, his eyes opened. and one could
not help but notice the fire of genius
which shone in their dark luminous
depths.
''No one could render that better
than you havee little one, he said
fondly, as he stroked lovingly back the
long dark curls.
Il am glad you were pleased, grand
father" she said simply. They were
Italians. the old man and his grand
child.
That they had not always been poor,
was whispered around among the few
who had become acquainted with Sig
nor Paulo, as he was called. Some
said he was Il miser and boarded gold
for the child, whose playing, though
she. was so young, was marvellous.
But these surmises did not trouble the
old man as he went out and came in
among them.
There was really no mystery what
ever about his frequent departures, for
Signor Paulo was a music-teacher,
and, though not well paid, he had a
small class of scholars. Since he had
left his native land he had never been
successful, but at last good fortune
seemed to be coming to him.
A wealthy Italian lady became in
terested in him, and learning that he
was of her own country, she engaged
him to take charge OF her musical
Soirees.
Little Ailia, YOU shall have new
dress and that fine book Of Handel you
have wanted so long" he said glee-
fully to his granddaughter. But the
next day he was stricken down by a
fever.
For four weeks he had lain on his
sick bed, old and poor, and all alone,
save for the company of Aiha.
What was to be done?
Though still mere child only thir-
teen-Aiia had Il woman ; mind. All
unconscouslv the thoughts and feel
ings which prompted the mastery
strains of the composers she SO loved
had woven themselves into every fibre
of her own heart.
Kept as she had been, from early
childhood. from aught that might be
hurtful to her sweet innocence, Ailia
was still as trustful and unfearing of
harm as an infant.
So when the pressing thought came,
what should be done to obtain daily
food for her sick grandfather and her.
self, she remembered with a glad
thrill his words in praise of her play
ing.
That afternoon, while the old man
slept, Il little figure wrapped in long
scarlet mantle, glided down the steep
stairs.
1t was bright sunny afternoon,
and Ailia made her way to u fashion,
able street, and before a stately brown
stone mansion she paused.
CHANGING upward, she saw in a lace
draped window some ladies and a
gentleman.
They We're not noticing her. Care
fully taking the vi, in from its ease,
she laid her cheek softly down, and
with trembling fingers drew the bow
across the vibrating strings.
The group above suddenly separated.
and the window gently opened.
1.Why, mamma" exclaimed a young
voice, cts only poor little girl, and
she's playing that air of Cherubini's
I've been trying to learn for a
MONTH
Hush, Mattie.n said another voice.
Don't talk amid such Music.
Ailia finished, and, lifting her dark
eyes towards the window. she waited
''By Jove! mother. there's genius in
that child's playing; and what a little
beauty she is. Let's call her in.
Before his mother, a true type of a
dignitied aristocratic English matron.
could speak, her impulsive son had left
the room, and soon returned, leading
by the hand the little musician.
4Hcu AHA plsts Ell aS ehc idd never
played before. Something told her
that that moment was the turning
point of her destiny
The tiny child-hands, as they WELD
ed the bow. seemed to her hearers rs if
instinct with power to command the
lurking music in the strings to dis
close herself
Before she left the Montrose man.
sion tina afternoon, Ailia had told, in
artless words, her history; and Mrs.
Montrosc, won, for the time, quite out